


circumstances

by edwardnygmas



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Ed is a slytherin, Harry Potter AU, M/M, Riddler - Freeform, Scarecrow - Freeform, jon is a ravenclaw, jon is also an asshole but i love him, talking about their hogwarts houses, the boys are in arkham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21524479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edwardnygmas/pseuds/edwardnygmas
Summary: Nygma and Crane discuss their lives and their houses from the confines of Arkham Asylum.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane & Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma
Kudos: 26





	circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> so I was thinking about these two and what hogwarts house I'd put them in, and this fic was born.

The two of them were in Arkham, as usual, in cells directly across from each other. 

Nygma was sitting in a position that made Crane cringe to look at, his long legs sprawled in a sort of pretzel shape that looked entirely wrong; God the things Ed Nygma did for attention sometimes.

“Why the fuck don’t you sit like a normal person?” 

“Why Jon, who wants to be a normal person in Gotham?” 

Nygma was sporting a black eye; Crane didn’t know he kept up his high energy even after getting beat up, arrested, and thrown in a dump like this place. 

What Crane really wanted to do was sleep, but with Nygma starting a fucking joke or riddle or whatever it was he was on about, it was impossible. All he did was talk, and while at first it was endearing to Crane that someone found him interesting enough to want to talk to and be around, it got old fast in Arkham. 

“God, Nygma, right about now I wish they’d bring back different prisons for Slytherins because I could really use you outta my hair right now.”

It was true that Gotham used to have a different institution for solely Slytherin prisoners, as they made up about 90% of crime in Gotham, but eventually the city couldn’t fund separate prisons, and that was the end of that. 

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“What?” 

“What you just said.” 

Crane rolled his eyes, but Nygma was staring at him with that look in his eyes that Crane knew all too well. He wouldn’t let a comment like that slide. 

“Not every criminal is a fucking Slytherin, Nygma, just because you are.” 

For a brief moment, Nygma looked almost hurt, then just confused. It gave Crane a sick satisfaction to see Nygma trying to mask his confused expression, because for a man who bragged to anyone that had ears that he was the smartest man in Gotham and that he could solve any puzzle, he looked dumbfounded right then. 

But Crane felt kind of bad, because for all the bickering the pair of them did, the puzzle man was probably his only friend, and Crane had always had a habit of pissing people off and pushing them away. 

“Are you really not a Slytherin?” 

Crane knew Nygma’s confidence must have taken a major hit by even asking the question; it made sense that he had always assumed Crane was a Slytherin. I mean, why wouldn’t he think that? 

“Nope.” 

Crane liked to watch the other man when he was thinking, really thinking hard about something. He had a very expressive face, and you could tell that his thoughts were flying at a hundred miles an hour. Most people just didn’t look that closely at Ed Nygma, he had the natural gift of getting on everyone’s bad side no matter what he did or said.  
He was clearly going over the other three houses, and Crane knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t make a guess unless he was sure; his whole ‘I can never be wrong’ complex. 

“I’m a Ravenclaw.”

It wasn’t something Crane was ashamed of, he just didn’t go around telling people. Sure, most criminals were Slytherins, but with the Scarecrow being undoubtedly one of the most feared figures in Gotham’s history, he didn’t worry about his house. Crane knew he didn’t need to be a Slytherin to be taken seriously, to command respect. 

“Fuck.” 

A few minutes went by, Nygma being uncharacteristically quiet. 

Crane decided ‘fuck it’, if there was any time to tell his story, and to anyone, this was it. 

“I was just a kid, Ed. I wasn’t always like this.” 

Nygma was watching him intently.

“I was a nerdy little thing, always had my nose in a book. Or wanted to, at least, you know how she was.”

Crane remembered how his grandmother would destroy any books that Crane brought home, telling him that it was a shame a young boy like him wanted to waste time reading when he could be helping out on the farm or playing sports with other boys. Even if he tried to hide the books (and at one point he had a small collection in the back of his closet), she would always find them, and Crane’s punishment was always worse for trying to keep them hidden. Beatings with just about anything she could get her hands on, or if she was in a particularly sour mood, being locked in the old barn overnight, freezing and filthy, scared to death.

You’d think with experiences like that, a young boy would be discouraged from reading, but Crane persisted, skipping class to sit in the library for as long as he could, eagerly absorbing the words on the pages. 

“I was smart, you know. It made sense I was a Ravenclaw.” Crane realized how bad that sounded after he said it; in truth he didn’t mean it in a ‘I’m smarter than you’ way, he knew Nygma was intelligent too.

“Of course you were.” Nygma said, in the curt voice he used with the prison guards. Crane didn’t have to wrap his mind around Nygma’s words, didn’t need to try and understand why he was upset. They had never discussed it before, but of course Nygma would want to be a Ravenclaw; his brand, his whole persona revolved around intelligence, on outsmarting everyone, always being the smartest one in the room. The fucking Riddler. 

“I’m honestly surprised you aren’t, Ed, but who cares? It’s just a house, it doesn’t mean shit anymore, doesn’t matter.” 

“It mattered to me, Jon. Fuck, I was twelve and so excited to find out my house. I was sure I’d be a Ravenclaw, I was so damn confident. I was telling everyone that I met that I was a future Ravenclaw. I didn’t know what to do when that fucking hat said “Slytherin”; I told my dad that night with tears in my eyes and you know what he did? He laughed at me.” 

Crane hated when Nygma did that, went into some self pitying story about how bad his life was. He wanted to say “It’s not a fucking competition, Nygma, my life sucked too. It’s why we're both here today, in this goddamn jail cell.” 

Instead he kept his mouth shut, letting Nygma keep talking. 

“You know what it was like to be a young Slytherin in Gotham?” 

“I can imagine.” 

“You can’t. Kids didn’t want to be my friend, no one trusted a Slytherin. Adults never trusted me, “Oh, that one’s a Slytherin, something must be seriously messed up in his head.” I’d try and go to the library and get kicked out for “disturbing other students” when all I wanted was to read; I’d get my pockets checked when I left stores because they thought I was a fucking thief. It messed me up, Jon.” 

Nygma kept going. “Every time I got a good grade, I was accused of cheating. Do you know how fucking crushed I was? I was thirteen and worked my ass off for grades I was proud of just for my teachers to call my dad in because they suspected me of cheating. And he believed them, Jon, he always fucking believed them, and he’d hit me. I never cheated, not once, I didn’t have to.” 

Crane had heard the stories of Nygma’s father, the drunk that took out his anger on his only son, sometimes leaving bruises so bad that Nygma would have to stay home from school for weeks on end as to not raise suspicions of abuse. 

And Crane couldn’t help but feel for him, because in that regard, they went through strikingly similar circumstances growing up. 

“The things that Ravenclaws were praised for were why I was punished.” 

Crane noticed the accusatory tone. 

“And I was young, Jon. I know it’s easy to see me now and see all the bad things I’ve done. I admit to that, I’m a criminal. But when I was young, I never wanted to hurt anyone, or take anything that wasn’t mine.” 

“Well if it makes you feel better, if I had that goddamn sorting hat on my head now, I guarantee I wouldn’t be a Ravenclaw anymore. Since I became the Scarecrow, I haven’t considered myself a Ravenclaw in a long time.” 

This was something Crane was confident in; so many aspects of his personality changed when he donned the Scarecrow mask for the first time, he wasn’t the same person he used to be. 

Nygma was now laying on his back on the dingy prison bed, his scrawny arm propped behind his head as a makeshift pillow.

“I used to be sure that I turned out the way I did because of my circumstances. That no one trusted me or appreciated me, that my dad fucking despised me, that I was on the street when I was eighteen and what the hell else could I do but resort to crime. But sometimes, I think ‘what if I was meant to be bad the whole time?’ The sorting hat had to have known, somehow, that I’d turn into what I am today.” 

“We’re both here by choice, Ed.” 

“Yeah, but sometimes I think about how different my life would be if I had been a Ravenclaw. I wouldn’t have been constantly ridiculed, I would have been praised instead of rejected.” 

What Crane wanted to say was that Nygma probably would have been ridiculed either way. The riddles tended to have that effect on people, he was just one of those people that got on your bad side no matter what. But Crane realized that was his inner asshole thinking those thoughts, and maybe Nygma was right. Maybe he would have turned out different if he wasn’t a Slytherin. Crane could see him as a detective, or maybe a scientist, a professor, possibly an architect. 

Maybe it was his psychiatrist background, but Crane thought about Ed Nygma a lot. They had a lot in common, the two of them, from their abusive homes growing up to their criminal personas. The Scarecrow and the Riddler. 

And yet they were very different people. 

It had baffled Crane when at the first bank robbery they had performed together, the green clad dumbass left behind a riddle for the Bat. 

“Why the fuck would you do that” Crane had asked. 

“So he knows it was us.” Nygma had said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. 

“Yeah, but he’s already gonna know it was us. We fucking announced it when he broke in, all he’d have to do was ask anyone that was in the goddamn bank.” 

“Yeah, but” Nygma had looked at him like Crane was the weird one. “Riddles are my thing. I had to leave one, stay on brand, you know.” 

Crane learned fast that Nygma liked to do illegal things because he had nothing better to do, because he could get away with it most of the time, and most importantly, because he liked the attention. 

After the robbery, they had snuck back to Nygma’s place, where he had instantly turned on the tv to the first channel that was talking about their crime. 

Crane didn’t know why he put up with the man. Why he let him show up unannounced at his apartment at one A.M. because the police were on his tail and it was closer than his own place. Why he let him talk his ear off at Arkham even when he was in the worst of moods. Why he went on crime sprees with the Riddler and no one else because the Scarecrow works alone. 

The truth was that Nygma was his friend, and meant a lot to Crane. He’d never give the other man the ego boost of telling him it, but he wasn’t gonna risk losing the only person who put up with his own dumb antics as well. 

Crane could remember plenty of times he had shown up at Nygma’s place uninvited, and no matter how cranky and aggravating he was, the other man was somehow always happy to see him, enthusiastically telling him about his plans for heists or how he was sure he had discovered the Bat’s true identity or showing him a book that “reminded me of you, Jon!” 

“Jon?” 

Crane realized that Nygma was looking at him from his cell. He had forgotten what exactly Nygma had just said, something about being a Slytherin and his sob story and his inner conflicts about himself or whatever. 

Crane wanted to say something to make him feel better, to make up for all the times he’d been an asshole, but nothing was coming to his head. 

He tried to come up with something that would make him feel better about being a Slytherin, but all he ended up saying was “Green is your color, though.” 

Nygma actually laughed, another of those times where Crane thought ‘how are you laughing? How can you possibly find it in you to laugh in a moment like this?’ 

“Yeah, Jon, it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really think both of them could be either ravenclaw or slytherin tbh, they have a lot of the traits for both but I wanted to write angsty nygma who always wanted to be a ravenclaw.


End file.
